Breathe Me
by dance-tilyou'redead
Summary: Clarke wanders off to be alone. But then Lexa's right there and she's the only one Clarke can bear to hold on to. Somewhere between fisticuffs, hair braids and body-paint they both become the person the other needs most.


**And The Worst Part Is There's No One Else To Blame **

The trees talk to her as she walks from the ark. They whisper and she feels calmed. /

Three days from the drop ship she finds a pool. Only meters across but deep and clear, grasses and water-flowers growing thick all around but for a sandy shore on the narrowest edge. The field with its watery heart is at the base of a cliff, the rocks warm with sun. Clarke drops her pack, tent and supplies and scouts the field and surrounding trees in sweeping circles. There's a cave only a stumble away.

The forest whispers and Clarke breathes deep in the sound.

The wounds she bears are bathed in shivering leaves and she feels that maybe someday there could be scars crisscrossing her heart instead of open lacerations.

/

The cave is more divot in the rock than cavern but there is space enough for Clarke to lay out a bed of salvaged canvas. She piles rocks across the entrance until there's just enough space to squeeze through, then secures a stretch of parachute across the gap. The reflective orange she douses in mud not bothered when she is covered in muck herself. It takes hours of hard labor and she's shaking with exhaustion and hunger before she's done.

It feels like living. No matter how she might wish it otherwise.

The temperature is dropping and there's insects awake in the trees. Clarke peels off her gloves, her coat, shirt, everything until she's naked and shivering beside the pool staring into clear water. Her reflection is highlighted bloody by sunset. She opens her mouth to say something to her, the girl floating in weeds smeared with mud. She opens her mouth to scream at her but Clarke's jaw snaps shut. The woods and insects scream enough. The children might have screamed.

She cries.

/

She had thought the water would be peaceful. Clarke imagined being submerged as akin to floating in the vacuum of space. No air, no sound, no life. But she opens her eyes and looks up to the surface, legs folded under her and knees pressed into sand. She's inches from the air but could stand if she needed. There's sounds all around her, bubbling life somehow manipulating her drowned ear drums. She bathes in the sound as she scrubs mud from her body, rubbing sand into her skin till it tingles.

When she breaks the surface her lungs fill without permission and she almost laughs at the relief. But no sound reaches her lips. The tree's song, the insect's scream, the crackling undergrowth is symphony enough and she lets herself sink again into the water, holding her breath to feel it burn.

Clarke walks from the pool curious to feel evening air on her skin. It's been so long since she was naked. She thinks how she may not have been quite this naked in earth's atmosphere at all. Not with a mind to enjoy it. Any baths had been rushed and with water from a stream. A dozen other girls staring resolutely at the ground, or at the trees keeping watch. Clarke looks up at the sky, first

stars appearing in the pink, and doesn't mind feeling this bare. She feels animal, no expectation, no wants only needs. She's never felt this before.

Except.

She thinks of green eyes set in dark kohl shadows and knows. She felt naked then too. Eyes filled with promises not demands.

Clarke shivers only half from the cool air and collects her clothes from where she dropped them, feels every item under her coat caked in grime. The coat and gloves she rinses then lays out on the rocks to dry but her other clothes she drowns, sinking them under a stone.

/

The cave turns out to be shelter enough. With effort and a few singed fingers the flint sparks a fire. The third time it lights Clarke keeps from smothering the flicker flame long enough to build up heat and light. Warm and dry she considers remaining naked but the night cold settles in and she knows that won't work.

Wind in the trees sings Clarke into nightmares and she doesn't mind.

She dreams of Dante in the mountain, blood draining from his heart as he walks through a classroom of children.

'A, B, C,' the class recites.  
'Very good,' the President praises them. 'And what does C stand for?'

The children turn to her. She's wearing her soft sleep clothes. Familiar worn fabric she hasn't felt since before she was locked in solitary. Long before the fall.

'Clarke,' the children say. 'C is for Clarke.'  
'Very good,' the teacher claps. 'Now who's ready for sleep?' Fear floods her. 'No,' she yells but the cry is a whisper.

The children all lay their heads down on their desks but for one little boy who sits up straight in his chair. The boy sings without melody. 'Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep.' He has a sweet familiar voice. A young Wells. Younger than the teenager Clarke first met during her Clinical practice. 'If I die before I wake.' Wells looks at her calmly, skin blistering around his eyes. 'Bless me Lord my soul to take.'

None of the children scream. /

When she plunges into her pool after dawn the water doesn't absolve her. The song of filtering air and life beneath the surface is soothing though and she allows herself the peace of it.

She listens. A nuclear war couldn't destroy this life. Clarke heals.

She leaves herself in the water's embrace and care, imagines this might be how her father felt the moments before his lungs collapsed.

She hears water song, she heals. /

On the third day something like a rabbit springs her trap and she resists the urge to tear into its soft belly with her teeth. She shreds the fur and skin off in chunks, gagging but getting it done. She burns half the meat to charcoal but still it's stringy and rich and she knows her body is glad for the protein.

After, she sinks in her pool, knees in the sand and thanks the earth for Her gifts. /  
Is a week long enough? Is she healed? The grass whisper no.  
She cries. She cries.

/

Her trap remains empty more days than it springs but Clarke hasn't the skill or the knowledge to know why. Scavenged from the drop ship she'd guessed how to set it and can only hope for the best. She forages while waiting.

Root vegetables and tubers are the luckiest find, sprouting close to the creek and not far from her shelter. There's berries as well in the surrounding woods and a few bitter leaves Clarke remembers from before. There had been more skilled hands than hers among The Hundred. A doctor's trade was superfluous for basic survival, and she found herself lacking.

*Those who can't do* she thinks with a wry smile digging hands through the dirt. No wonder she fell into leadership. A bird snickers his agreement and she looks up at the crow to smile in thanks. The bird takes flight, wind through the trees swallowing his sounds.

/  
Can a month help her forget?

Clarke wonders when winter will come. It's cooler now but there's no real edge to it. Her fire is enough to keep warm at night, the pool chilling her deep but with no real danger to the cold.

She survives. She dreams.

She remembers Jasper asking her 'Why?'.

'You would have done it,' she says but knows it's a lie. So few, she knows could.

Lexa.

Clarke shies away from the name but her subconscious does not and she dreams of a sun-lit tent and a kiss. Then a night filled with heartbreak.

'Your commander made a choice,' Clarke had said.  
'What you would have done,' Lexa says, eyes filled with grief.

Clarke can see her now as she couldn't on that night. A stuttered breath pulled Lexa's lips, as she turned with her army to leave.

As Clarke would have done.

/

Clarke still can't swim. But she strips down and she wades into her pool, deeper each day until slipping beneath the surface is easy as falling. Her toes sink into sand and she's floating again, only breaking the surface once her lungs burn their worst. She enjoys a knifes edge, feeling the water hold her close as she ponders her choice.

The bubbles laugh at her and she knows that they're right. Of course there's no choice. She bears others' grief so that they don't have to. But it's a game that she plays, of deceiving herself. She's never been good at it, thinking past what is real, what is fact.

She comes up for a breath and to check where she is, that the trees haven't left her. She listens, she heals.

She slips under again and thinks about staying. Thinks how easy it would be. The human body so quick to betray itself in the face of water. An irony considering the blue planet they inhabit. As quick as 20 seconds from the moment she loses conscious control. If she just waits. The choice would be taken out of her hands. And she is so very tired of making choices.

She listens. She waits.

She doesn't know how long she's under the water. Minutes maybe. Her lung capacity greater than before, like she's been practicing. And maybe she has been.

She sinks lower with the last air leaving her mouth and she stares up to the sky. Her eys close when her back hits the sand and she thinks how soft it feels. Light plays against her eyelids and bubbles play past her ears.

Not long now, she knows and wonders when she decided to stay.

A crashing sound pulls at her dimming consciousness but she resists the urge to open her eyes. Her lungs are clawing and she finally gasps, water tearing through her lips and down her wind pipe. Burning hot as the arms now wrapped around her chest. Warm and firm and familiar.

The air strikes her face and she gasps splutters choking on the fluid already in her lungs and her gut. Strong arms drag her up the sand and onto the grass, release her to slap hard at her back as she retches water and berries and bile, her body purging.

Clarke lies face down until the last convulsion clears her throat. The burn remains but she breathes freely and knows the air is sweet to spite her. She made a choice. The wrong choice. And the

puckered scars on her heart tear open again.

The hands that pulled her from the water remain warm on her back and Clarke wonders without concern who they belong to. Soft hands, small for the strength of them. Octavia, Clarke thinks but turns onto her back to find another.

Lexa's hands retreat from Clarke's skin but her gaze remains. Clarke reads the expression, her eyes too easily. Those eyes that promised and gave and calmed, now demand and plead and question, *why*.

Clarke shakes her head and looks away. Lexa stands. The little clothing she wears is soaked to dripping and she looks small without her armour but no less strong. She turns and stalks back into the trees. The trees, Clarke realises that must have been hiding her for some time.

Clarke stumbles to her feet not caring about how bare she is. She stares into the trees without speaking. willing Lexa to return, to show Clarke she's real and not a hallucination born of loneliness. Of grief.

Lexa does return, crushing underbrush in her annoyance and making more noise than she may have made in her entire life. Clarke doesn't smile but she thinks she could. Lexa stalks past her, hair dripping into fresh dry clothes to deposit a pack of supplies and a belt of weapons in Clarke's shelter. She turns to Clarke with a look which dares her to object. When Clarke doesn't Lexa busies herself stretching her wet clothes across sun soaked rocks.

Clarke dresses herself, suddenly feeling cold. /

When they sit together in the sun soon after Clarke listens to the woods and she knows Lexa listens with her.

She listens and breathes and heals. She listens and breathes and heals.

**Yeah I Think that I Might Break**

I hope no one thinks Lexa is a creep. She's a little bit damaged okay? Also, I may have decided to write another chapter when this reached '69' Kudos cause I'm a child.

Thank you for all the love!

Three weeks. It takes three weeks of diplomacy and ego-soothing and blunt-force negotiation before Lexa can leave Polis. She knows of what happened inside The Mountain, had let her people believe she'd know all along. Lexa's betrayal would not sit well with her people regardless of the hundreds she saved. Regardless of the threat to Clarke's life, the sniper set to spill her life- blood should Lexa have refused. So her people believe that the battle was won in honour.

After three weeks Lexa returns to the woods, a sabbatical granted in good faith by the Twelve Clans and her own Queen. Indra remains in her stead and Lexa trusts that her general can maintain their peace. For now Lexa is not Heda she is only herself. She rides alone without armour in a commoner's clothes, and can finally breathe.

/

Lexa's scouts meet her a half day's walk from Clarke's oasis. They need no instruction as she shoulders her saddle bag and hands them Brooklyn's reigns. Lexa asks for confirmation of Clarke's continued health and they confirm that Sky Prisa is well, if a little underfed. Her mount nudges her shoulder and she scratches his flank with affection thinking on the title her people have chosen for Clarke. Sky Prisa - a golden haired Princess caught alone in the woods.

A few hours of walking brings Lexa in sight of sun-baked cliffs. Clarke has chosen her position well. The time she spent among Trikru may have instilled some skills after all, if less visibly in Clarke than in Octavia. Clarke is sheltered and safe here, or as safe as she could be when so new to the ground.

Another hour of walking brings the clearing in view, brings Clarke into sight through a grove of trees. She looks much as she did the night Lexa last saw her. Her skin is still fair, unmarred by scarring, and Lexa feels relieved. Three weeks was too long. Reports are not the same as seeing Clarke with her own eyes alive and still strong. Lexa needed this, needed to know, needed to see for herself.

Lexa is aware that weakness and need are closely aligned.

Lexa retreats from the clearing. She is not here to force Clarke away or to encroach on her grief. She's here to keep watch.

Lexa knows Clarke is not hers. That she has no claim on her. Clarke had once said _not yet _and since The Mountain Lexa is sure that's now _not ever_. But while Clarke is in TriKru territory Lexa will make sure that she's safe, whether she likes it or not.

Lexa picks a sturdy oak and clambers up to build herself a shelter high in the branches, a sling of hung bedding tied up with rope in the leaves. She can see into the field without being seen and though she knows Clarke came here to wander alone, Lexa does not see the trespass. She has no urge to spy after all, only to safeguard, and Clarke needn't ever know she was here.

/

Under midday sun Clarke's new home is beautiful. The pool is clear and deep, and Lexa thinks Clarke's choice may have had less to do with safety than she first thought. There's a peace here, deep and calming. And Clarke appears moved as she stares through the woods - as she stares right through Lexa.

Lexa watches over Clarke as she hunts for berries and roots throughout the afternoon. She observes all her choices, glad to see nothing toxic in the mix. When Clarke Lexa traces the ground and finds food of her own. She won't wander far though. Not far from Skai Prisa.

Soon, the sun sinks and Clarke stokes a fire for warmth. Lexa has furs enough where she hangs and when Clarke retreats to her shelter Lexa falls into a sleep that is deep enough for dreams.

/  
If her sleep is fearful Lexa doesn't remember it.

She's shaken awake by a yell. Clarke is calling out and Lexa drops from her branches with a blade in her hand. She sprints through the trees low and quiet, her heart full of tremors. Clarke's terrified yell echoes in her chest the whole way.

She stops short of the cave's entry. The night is quiet again, the calm before dawn, and Clarke is talking in low sleepy murmurs. Lexa peaks past the canvas to see Clarke asleep. Clarke's frown is deep as she dreams and there are tears wetting her cheeks.

Lexa would comfort her. She watches her dream.

After too many minutes Lexa stows away her knife and walks back through the trees, climbing up to her perch to wait for the sunrise. But Lexa is still crouched out on her limb when Clarke emerges, rushing from the cave to the water. First light of dawn lights the clearing in grey, bright enough to see Clarke tearing off clothing and dropping it behind her til she's naked as a babe standing on the edge of the water. Lexa's muscles strain but she doesn't move as Clarke's eyes seem to meet hers. She sees Clarke breathe in deep and Lexa echoes the breath. Clarke steps into the water, takes another step then another until she's waist deep in the pool. She collapses then, disappearing into water - black in the predawn.

Lexa almost calls out Clarke's name as she unlocks her tensed muscles and jumps once again from

the tree. She runs forward instead, bracing herself to dive into cold dark water in search of the Skai Prisa. She stands on waters edge as daylight breaks and lights up the water. Blonde hair swirling just beneath the surface.

Lexa almost laughs. Relief warms her over again just from looking on this face, expression scrunched and distorted by ripples. Clarke holds her breath scrubbing hard at her skin. Safe.

Lexa moves backwards, retracing her steps back into the trees and up onto her branch. The ninety seconds it takes for Clarke to surface in a spluttering surge are enough for Lexa to return to her bed.

Lexa can still see into the clearing without being seen, although now she understands her trespass.

/

They forage side by side, a forest between them now Lexa's assured that Clarke will not poison herself. And when Clarke's peculiar Skaikru trap snags a _trigoufa _in its jaws Lexa leaves with her bow to find some fresh meat for herself. What Clarke will have, Lexa will have.

/

Clarke doesn't cry out from her dreams every night but whenever she does Lexa runs down to check her. And her heart breaks to see pain in the twist of Clarke's mouth. The deaths that haunt her. Lexa hopes that the healing Clarke seeks comes at a cost smaller than her own.

After each restless night Clarke sinks into the water, submerged it seems until her lungs are ready to burst. Lexa counts out the seconds that are longer each time.

The night Clarke shouts out a warning. 112 seconds. A night Clarke curses and cries. 116.

Clarke murmurs Lexa's name. 120.

On the mornings Clarke stands out on the grass with her naked skin glistening, Lexa tries not to look. But Clarke stands like a gift to the sun and the sky and the stars that she fell from. Clarke stares through the woods. And Lexa can't help but return the hard gaze.

/

After three quiet nights Clarke wades into her pool, it would seem just for fun. Lexa feels warm and content as she watches, letting a leg swing free from her hammock and chewing through a handful of berries. Clarke drifts in deeper until she's submerged to the neck, keeping balance with slow arms. She looks to the trees before slipping beneath the surface and Lexa starts to counts out the seconds.

There's a splash at 130 seconds and Lexa smiles at the new stretch as Clarke breaks the surface just high enough for a breath. The blonde head bobs for a moment before slipping under once more. Lexa shakes her head and starts counting again absorbed by the game.

At 136 seconds bubbles emerge but Clarke does not.

At 138 Lexa slips to the ground, moving closer.  
140\. She's on the edge of the tree line, heart beating too fast. 141.  
No.  
Clarke?  
There's no more sound.

Lexa doesn't think of consequences when she dives into the water, wraps her arms round Clarke's middle and hauls her upwards. She drags Clarke's dead weight repeating _no _and _please _and _not now _as she does. Then Clarke is coughing and gagging, and there's water and more pouring onto the ground. Lexa thumps Clarke's back holding an arm to steady her - to steady herself.

Lexa is shaking and scared and sad and angry all at once. Thinking how could she do this? Clarke had done what was needed of her, been the worst and the best for her people. Lexa has seen the life returning to Clarke's gaze as she lived in this place. Clarke is so much more than this, is so much more than a body in the water.

Clarke turns onto her back and Lexa draws her hands from wet skin, but after weeks of looking she can't keep her eyes from Clarke now. There's surprise and suspicion in Clarke's gaze and Lexa feels her anger grow hot. Lexa has cared for so long, has indulged in her weakness and for what? Now Clarke knows that she's here, knows that more than the forest has been watching her grief, her healing.

Lexa stands, pushing heavy braids from her face and feeling the common clothes she's worn clinging to her skin. She's soaked through and cold. She can see her reflection in the water and she wonders. Who is this dripping _branwoda _hiding from the one that she wants. Who is she to leave Heda behind to have betrayed an alliance. This girl hiding in trees and dreaming of Skai Prisa yet doing nothing to win her. These actions are not worthy of her Heda spirit, of her history.

Lexa does not look at Clarke as she stalks back to her tree. She climbs up the rough trunk to loosen the ropes and drop it all down to the ground. She changes her clothes into something dry, gathers her bedding and weapons, and storms back into the clearing. Clarke is standing now, still sharp-breathed and naked but very much alive. Lexa could either kiss her or punch her, there's no clear action to take. So she walks past and glares back for just a moment before throwing her things into the cave alongside Clarke's.

She won't hide any more.

Movement behind her lets Lexa know Clarke is dressing so she stretches her clothes out to dry and doesn't turn back for some time.

/  
Eventually, they sit.

There's no shouting, or anger or even hard looks once they're both being still. She'd been expecting something more from Skai Prisa, for the betrayal still so fresh. In the sun Clarke seems peaceful. As peaceful as Lexa has seen her.

And there's nothing to say. They both did what they could, what was best for their people.

Without any warning something invisible breaks and Clarke's eyes fill with tears. She cries shivering and silent, and Lexa's eyes burn hot too, welling bright with the tears that she's held back since The Mountain. Her hands flex to take Clarke's but she has just enough strength to keep still.

She opens her mouth but Clarke shakes her head, _Don't_, and Lexa nods her O_kay_. She thinks maybe Clarke's eyes hold a _Thank you _in reply.

They watch the sun set, and watch the moon rise then ignore grumbling bellies to crawl back into the cave. Lexa spreads out her furs as far from Clarke's bed as the space will allow and lies herself down quickly, arms supporting her head to stare at the rock ceiling. She won't be hiding in trees any more but Clarke needn't be uneasy. Lexa can keep her own space.

She swallows past her dry throat feigning unconcern as Clarke hesitates just inside of their shelter. She knows Clarke could hurt her. She can still clearly see in her memory those sad blue eyes so dark with betrayal. If Lexa is hurt in return for her actions then so be it. She would accept whatever Clarke gives her.

But still, she hopes.

Clarke seems to weigh up a choice. It's getting cold and she'll need to feed the fire if they're to keep warm through the night. Lexa stops pretending not to care and shifts her hips and her shoulders so there's space for Clarke beside her. They would be more comfortable with the furs underneath them, the Skaikru blankets above.

Lexa hates that she hopes.

The look in Clarke's eyes is too complex to read in periphery, but then the crease in her brow smoothes and she lays down on the furs, turned onto her side. Lexa stares up at the rock but she can feel Clarke observing her profile. She wonders if Clarke can see her pulse racing, can see how hard she fights to stay still.

When Clarke lifts a hand in a small and slow motion Lexa flinches. If Clarke sees the reaction then she ignores it, reaching out further to touch Lexa's arm, to trace the ink in her skin. She realises then that Clarke must not have seen her tattoos before now.

In a slow careful motion Lexa lays her arm down in between them and Clarke's wary gaze follows her fingertips as they burn trails across it.

Lexa closes her eyes. Breathes deep as she trembles.

**Hold Me, Wrap Me Up**

Clarke wakes to the feeling of her chest caving in. She can't find her breath and the dark's closing

in. She's going to die along with everyone she loves and theres nothing at all she can do.

Cage is there in the shadows refusing to move even as she stares into the dark and reminds herself he's dead. He's dead. Her heart's beating furiously and a cold sweat slicks her skin. Why can't she wake up? A hand grabs her arm and she yelps, then covers her mouth, clenching her jaw. The Mountain Men will find her. And everyone will die.

She's embraced then by warm gentle arms and a cloud of soft hair falls down around her face. Lexa. Lexa wasn't there inside of The Mountain. She left Clarke alone on that night. Lexa is here in the forest, three days walk from the Drop Ship and Clarke has already saved her people. She's not in The Mountain, The Mountain is dead.

Lexa holds her close and Clarke can feel the calm settle around her. Her heart beat slows down and she pulls Lexa closer meeting her warm searching gaze. Lexa watches her, breathing slow and deliberate. Clarke tries to match the pace of her breath and Lexa smiles encouragement as she strokes gentle fingers over Clarke's cheek.

Everything eases and Clarke's panic recedes. She's safe. Her people are safe. And Lexa is here.

She shivers. Lexa keeps Clarke in close contact as she reaches for the blankets they'd forgotten. With one arm she drags it over to cover them both. They had slipped into sleep with Clarke's hand tracing over Lexa's skin sharing in body heat. Now the cold touches their skin and Clarke feels it even more keenly for the sweat on her skin.

Lexa shuffles back but opens her arms and Clarke takes the invitation to curl in close. She breathes deep, tucking her nose into the clean woodsy scent of Lexa's skin.

She's comfortable and warm. She sleeps and she doesn't dream. /

When Lexa wakes, Clarke is still tucked into her side. She's snoring lightly blowing air across her neck and making her shiver. Lexa needs to go outside, the need to relieve herself persistent, but Clarke's face is so calm and Lexa hates to admit that this is all she's wanted.

From the first night she saw Clarke shaken by nightmares, she's wanted to hold her safe in her arms. Now that she's here Lexa doesn't want to let go. She doesn't know if Clarke will let this continue once the nightmares are gone.

/

In the light of day Clarke continues as before except now Lexa walks with her. They forage together and Lexa shows Clarke the edible plants she knows she's been missing.

Lexa feels peaceful as she walks through the trees tapping on firm trunks just to hear the sound. There's light filtering through the leaves making patterns on the ground and birds are dancing in the branches above. One bird catches her eye, so bright among the rest with red feathers on his chest contrasting with blue green on his wings. Lexa has never seen such a bird before.

Clarke is looking down, using a stick to dig around under the trees, shifting back leaves in search of edible mushrooms. Lexa drops a hand to her shoulder and Clarke startles. She shoves away Lexa's hand and spins down to a defensive crouch panic writ large on her face. Her eyes light on Lexa but still hunt for an enemy, hand twitching to her waist where a gun used to be. Lexa is glad that the weapon is left in the cave as she raises her hands in apology.

/

Clarke brushes off Lexa's attempts at comfort and walks back to the clearing. They've foraged enough. They've lingered together too long. Whatever allowed Clarke to accept Lexa's comfort in darkness is gone in the light. She now sees Lexa as Heda. Heda who walked from The Mountain and abandoned Clarke's people. She is also Lexa who gave Clarke too much and too fast in a camp before battle. Clarke remembers a war cry _Jus Drein Jus Daun _and a heartbroken, 'I do care, Clarke'.

Clarke worries little for her audience as she strips bare once again and slides into her pool. Lexa's seen her enough she is sure.

In the water she calms.

Clarke had thought she was healing but here in the water she understands that really she was hiding. Hiding from the fear and the judgment that had stalked her in dreams. Her near drowning wasn't mischance or a loss of concentration. She had wanted to—

The water can heal her, she feels it, but she wasn't yet open to the chance. When Lexa saved Clarke from her drowning she triggered a change. For better or worse Clarke needs to find a new way to survive – to live. The panic and fear which has filled her all morning makes her feel like a child. Reminds her of how she'd wanted to cry in deep panic when her mother was strapped to that table, reminds her of the monster that pulled the lever to kill all those people.

For weeks she had left her self behind, denied that the Clarke from The Mountain had ever existed but now she must face her. The dreams haunting her nights but washed away in the day won't be so easily cleansed any more. She knows that she still _is _that Clarke, and she must learn how to marry the people that she _has been _into a new, whole and complete person that she _will be_. She is commander, and healer, lover, and murderer. Once she was Clarke Griffin of the Ark, and then juvenile delinquent and then leader of The Hundred. Now she is Clarke Heda Kom Skaikru or Clarke Kom Trigedakru, or nothing at all.

When Clarke bursts to the surface with a shuddering breath the first thing she sees is Lexa, crouched by the water and watching her with a gentle assured gaze. She doesn't turn away as Clarke sinks back under.

/

For days they repeat the same pattern. They forage, they watch the sky, they sleep. When Clarke wakes in a sweat with a thundering heart Lexa holds soothing hands to her cheek and Clarke tugs her close.

/

A morning Clarke wakes alone she fights back the moment of panic at finding Lexa gone. Dawn is brightening their shelter and she refuses to need her in daylight hours. Clarke wanders outside and into the woods without looking for her. She doesn't need to know where Lexa might be, she doesn't need her at all. Except in the night. But only then.

Once Clarke returns to the clearing she finds Lexa standing still by the water, sword lifted high in her hands. Clarke's heart immediately jolts as she scans the trees for the threat. But then Lexa turns around slowly in a move too graceful for fighting. Her face is serene, the lines of her body fluid.

She's training, and it's beautiful. Clarke had seen Lexa's warriors perform similar motions but never with such graceful balance. And never with Lexa among them. Clarke walks toward her in small careful steps. Lexa knows she is there, had acknowledged her gaze but continued without pause. Eventually Lexa must reach the last position because she relaxes her stances and lowers the blade. Clarke stands before her not sure how to say – how to show Lexa she'd like her to continue.

Lexa puts away the blade but seems to read Clarke's thoughts as she returns to her dance. Clarke can only think of the movements as dance, no matter their purpose. Lexa leans into the first pose with one arm outstretched and her feet braced apart. She holds, then shifts into another position, the lines of her body never losing their grace. She waits then finds another then a fourth and a fifth position until she's back in the first and looking at Clarke.

Clarke hesitates a beat then mimics her stance. Lexa shakes her head, stands up to full hight for a moment then relaxes again into the first position. Clarke looks up and down Lexa's body, then at her own and adjusts. Lexa doesn't sigh exactly. She drops her arms, looks thoughtful at Clarke's awkward posture then reaches out for her, hands pausing over Clarke's hips. Clarke remains still to indicate her permission then gentle hands drop to her waist. Lexa tugs at her then pushes and twists in wide rapid motions that force Clarke's whole body to move around her hips. Clarke almost laughs at the feeling.

Lexa's eyes are full of soft emotion as she looks at her but then she blinks and it's gone. She quirks her brow instead with a wry smile and Clarke nods her understanding: she needs to loosen her hips and relax her whole body. Lexa resumes first position and once Clarke is holding the stance Lexa shifts to the next.

/

Clarke's nights are for dreams and for Lexa's tight hold, and in the day she feels guilty. She is using Lexa and she knows it. The way Lexa looks at her is giving, undemanding as always. But Clarke still isn't there yet. She can't look at Lexa the way that she knows she could. Lexa never seems disappointed or as if she wants anything more but Clarke can still feel it.

Lexa has gone hunting. Clarke wanted to follow to see how it's done but Lexa had glared at her feet after only a few paces and Clarke knew she must wait. She would learn stealth first and hunting second. Once she regains some of her strength. She was surprised to feel sore after mirroring Lexa, the strain of holding her body in the smooth changing lines took more effort than

it it would seem. After days of Lexa's dance Clarke can feel her muscles lengthening, growing again. She'd guess that's why they needed the protein of fresh meat.

Clarke hunts for more mushrooms, since the protein would match well with what Lexa brings back. There's few on the ground since the air has gone crisp and dry with cold. She gives up after an hour and just walks through the trees. The bark of most are rough and brittle and she can tear bits and splinters out easily.

Clarke draws out her dagger to press into the bark, to see what will happen. Sap dark and sticky pours from the wound, flows and then stops. She tilts her head and the wind sounds like air filtered through ventilation underground. She twists the blade again and more sap leaks out, flows down the blade and coats her finders in warm sticky red. She hears drills tearing into bone.

Clarke turns, drops to her knees and vomits. One hand braces against the ground, her fingers twist into the grass and she rips out roots and dirt and doesn't stop when she feels her nails break. She rips out more grass and then punches a fist into the hole that she's made.

She swings her fist into a tree truck hard enough to feel her knuckles crunch. /

Lexa swings two new-dead _trigoufa _by their long feet as she walks back to the clearing. Clarke has been smiling again, and Lexa feels light. Beyond Clarke's change in expression, the training has given them something to do that isn't looking for food or staring at the sky.

Lexa had not intended to share that with Clarke as the exercise is different from her clan's usual style. It was Costia's people who favoured the gentle defensive movements over more aggressive technique so she has had little opportunity to practice alongside someone else. She hadn't any idea _shigon _could be so – intimate.

She is hoping for more time training when she returns but then reaching the clearing she sees Clarke. She's curled small on the rocks hugging her knees and staring. Lexa rushes to her side and ignores the flinch when she touches Clarke's shoulder. There's blood on her hands and the swelling on her knuckles indicates at least one break. Clarke's gaze is unfocused and Lexa doesn't need to ask her what happened. She recognises this pain.

Lexa draws Clarke to the water's edge. There's at least one broken knuckle and two torn nails hidden under the dirt and the blood, and she dips Clarke's hand into the pool gently as possible. She wrings out a scrap of cloth to wipe at the mess but her hands are shaking. Her hands shake and she cries without meaning to.

Lexa has been so damn foolish. How many times had she imagined Clarke's body broken and bloody on The Mountain, before she'd heard of the massacre? Clarke should have died in that mountain without aid of an army. Instead she had done the unthinkable to rescue her people, what Lexa could never have imagined the strange sweet Skai Prisa to be capable of. Seeing Clarke's blood like this, staining the water brown—.

Lexa draws in a shuddering breath and tries to be strong but then a thin pale hand covers over her trembling own. Clark is looking up at her, focused again. She takes the cloth away from Lexa with her damaged hand and grasps Lexa's trembling fingers with the other. She looks up into her. _I am here _her eyes say, _I survived_. Lexa feels herself pleading for something(maybe for forgiveness) but Clarke cuts back with a glare, _Don't you dare be weak_. Lexa cannot be weak, she does't get to be weak when Clarke still needs her.

Lexa has to look away, she bites down on her lip as she breathes in deep through her nose. She blows out the breath and takes back the cloth, holding out her hand to request a return of Clarke's still weeping hand.

/

A few days pass and Lexa is glad to see Clarke's hand start to heal. Even more glad to see her good spirits return. Clarke's smile becomes looser, more easily given and when the night cold sends them to bed Clarke still pulls her in close.

The first flurry of snow falls heavy overnight and Lexa can feel the change without seeing it, the scent of fresh snow so rich in the air. She untangles herself from Clarke and slips from the bed to stoke up their fire. These temperatures will be colder than Clarke has yet experienced on the ground and she wonders how cold Clarke's home was in space. Maybe one day she'll ask.

Clarke stirs not long after and they eat a breakfast of berries, dried meat and seeds. Lexa gives Clarke most of her berries knowing they're now likely their last until Spring. She can't help but smile as Clarke happily accepts and snuggles back into their bedding. She knows that Clarke's easy delight is far sweeter than even the freshest of sweet berries.

With the last of the fruit just a stain on Clarke's fingertips Lexa encourages her Skai Prisa to stand and wraps furs round her shoulders. Clarke quirks a curious brow but doesn't object. There's trust in her eyes – Lexa won't hurt her.

Lexa takes up a blanket to wrap herself in then pulls back the sheet to show the outside. Snow coats the ground and dusts the trees around them. The pool shows signs of freezing around its edges and though the snow is done falling the clouds remain close. Clarke's gasp is all Lexa could hope for. Such a small sound but the first Lexa's heard that's not coloured by nightmares.

Lexa catches Clarke's eye and nods out to the clearing. _Will you join me? _she thinks, and Clarke nods like she truly can read her mind. At this point Lexa thinks maybe she can.

She steps out onto the rocks and offers her hand to guide Clarke outside safely. Clarke's hand slips from hers as they both reach the grass and Clarke runs a few steps but then stops without balance. She stares at the ground and stamps her feet to make frosted blades crunch. The wonder in her expression is infectious and Lexa feels her heart grow huge in her chest. Clarke turns just to smile and Lexa feels like maybe she is seeing snow for the first time as well.

By the trees there's a pile of ice a foot deep where it's slipped from the branches. Clarke goes to nudge at the drift with her boots. There's more crunching sounds and then Clarke's kneeling to lift up the ice in her fingers and marvelling at the crystals melting on her skin.

Lexa debates joining her play but opts for sitting and watching instead. This clearing must have been the last place for miles to see snow. The temperature is still warmer than it should be and Lexa hopes that the snow stays for at least a couple days longer. Time enough to enjoy it before receding to spring. Clarke will love spring Lexa thinks. There will be so much beauty and joy to share with Clarke in her world.

Something hard and cold hits the side of her head, breaking apart on impact. Lexa's jumps to her feet and her hand snaps to the knife at her belt but then she registers the familiar feel of cold water seeping into her collar. Ice melting into her hair and clothes.

Clarke stands a few meters away with a cheeky grin and pink fingers grasping another chunk of

snow.

_You wouldn't dare_, she thinks and this time Clarke feigns misunderstanding to toss another lump of snow which breaks apart near her feet. Lexa dips her head in warning and takes a step forward. Clarke edges back as Lexa moves closer. Step for step until Clarke's back hits a tree.

Lexa feints forward and Clarke takes the bait bolting in the direction Lexa wants her to. She reaches out but Clarke is too quick slipping through and bolting out around the pool. Lexa runs after her. She's stronger and quicker, and has Clarke round the middle in only a few seconds, swinging her feet off the ground hands wrapped secure round her back.

When Lexa allows Clarke's feet to contact the ground Clarke is gripping her front, not pushing away. They're both breathing deeply and Lexa knows where they are, sees the same recognition in Clarke's eyes. She doesn't let go. Her gaze flickers down to Clarke's lips. How could she not. Clarke's eyes are bright, her cheeks are a beautiful pink, but her lips - her lips are blushed red with berries and cold. Clarke's hands are knotted tight in Lexa's shirt, keeping her close. If Clarke wants to then maybe—

But Clarke blinks and looks up as a snowflake lands on her cheek. Her grin lights with wonder as one flake becomes many, their world losing depth to the whiteness. A muting blanket of snowfall renders the woods silent and suddenly they're alone in the world. As if nothing exists outside of this place. As if there is no pain, no loss, no grief, only them. They are just two girls alone in the woods with snow in their hair and unvoiced whispers on their lips.

Clarke's gaze returns from the sky to meet Lexa's, her fingers playing with a loose tied braid. Lexa feels Clarke's grip refasten, she resolves to be still and not to react but then Clarke's lips are pressing into her own, firm and warm, and Lexa melts as surely as the snow on their cheeks.

Lexa has never felt a kiss so sweet and so longed for. She kisses back with careful, equal pressure hesitating only when Clarke pulls back. She prepares to let go but then Clarke is nudging her nose and fitting their lips back together in exquisite sweetness.

They fit perfectly together. That's all Lexa can think as her body sings like a bell struck at just the right tempo. Their bodies, their lips, and their lives are two halves of a whole and Lexa could never deny it.

An unwanted shiver runs through them and Clarke's lips lose their intent. She's smiling though, over chattering teeth and Lexa wraps her close under one arm and guides them back to their shelter. The snowfall has become heavy now, there's no reason to stay. And so many reasons to retreat to the fire, to the warmth of their bed.

Clarke's smile remains strong and Lexa feels like her heart could break from the joy of it.

**Warm Me Up, And Breath Me **

The snow falls for the rest of the day and Clarke can't seem to mind. It's cold and wet and smothering everything in a killing frost. But she has Lexa, and they have fuel for their fire and enough food for now. She's never felt more content. Lexa rests against the cave wall and Clarke leans against her, both wrapped in furs as they watch the snow falling.

The fluttering crystals are beautiful. The stars were a sight to see from space, the Earth itself an everyday wonder. But she never had this. She'd had a few short-term someone's to hold onto through moon rises. But she'd never had Lexa.

Clarke sinks back further til her temple rests against Lexa's jaw. She feels Lexa's heart speed to a thumping rhythm, fast enough to feel through her back. She can't help it if her pulse quickens the same. There's never been a person she affected this way. Maybe with more time and less desperate circumstances Finn might have been—.

But it's useless to think of Finn, especially here. She won't forget how she felt when Lexa demanded his life. She'll never forget how it felt to push a blade through his heart. But she'd let Finn go, along with her guilt on the day she lit his funeral pyre.

Clarke turns her head further to nudge at Lexa's chin. Lexa's discipline does her credit as she keeps herself still but her breathing has shortened and gives her away. Clarke doesn't aim to tease but Lexa's stuttering breath is a sweet reward she cannot resist.

But then she sees Lexa's knuckles go white against her knees and her moment of playfulness is gone. Too much too soon. She turns back to the snow, a frown lowering her brow. She doesn't make any sound but somehow Lexa still senses her mood. The white knuckles relax and Lexa nudges her nose just once against Clarke's cheek. Clarke's frown melts back into a smile and she turns back to nuzzle into Lexa's neck. Lexa's hand drifts to Clarke's hip but then stops – she's hesitating again her breath going short. Lexa won't ask Clarke for more than she can give. She knows Clarke still mourns. Her nightmares remain.

Clarke takes Lexa's hand to play with her fingers. They both relax and forget to feel sad. /

When the snow eases off to rain and then stops altogether Clarke drags Lexa out into the clearing, prompting her with gentle nudges to train. Lexa reluctantly agrees eyeing off the soft mud and thinking how it will likely get everywhere.

They move through the motions, each stance bringing them closer together. At the final position they stand face to face and incredibly close. Lexa is breathing hard from exertion, she's leaning too far forward and staring at Clarke's lips – the lips lifting up in a puckish smirk. Without

warning Clarke shoves at her shoulder. Lexa caught by surprise over corrects and nearly falls over. She recovers mid fall, shifts her advantage, drops to one knee and sweeps Clarke's feet out from under her.

It all happens in moments and Lexa can only watch as Clarke falls and lands hard in the mud. Lexa drops to cradle Clarke's head on her knees. Her hand hovers over her temple, about to push back her hair when Clarke's eyes focus and her voice bursts out into laughter. Real laughter. Lexa laughs along, rolling her eyes at Clarke's foolishness even as she strokes Clarke's cheek with a tender hand.

Clarke regains some composure and holds her hand over Lexa's where it rests on her cheek. Lexa swallows hard when Clarke turns their hands to press a kiss to her palm. She clears her throat then, and Clarke takes stock of what she's doing. Too much too fast. They've been here before. This kind of intimacy still walks a knifes edge too fine. Hurt and comfort are one and the same for them still.

Lexa supports Clarke's back as she sits up then stands and embraces Clarke's arm to pull her upright. They release their grip, and Clarke with slow deliberate movements and a returning smirk shoves Lexa's shoulder again. Lexa barely moves but she understands this time. Clarke's training is moving on to the aggressive style _shegon _today. Lexa shoves Clarke's shoulder right back and now it's Clarke's turn to roll her eyes with a laugh. Lexa thinks she could get used to the sound.

Lexa deliberates over the request more seriously. Training Clarke couldn't do any harm, not to Clarke anyway. When Lexa has to leave Clarke could come along as her Second. Although as equals in rank among their own peoples some other title or arrangement may have to be negotiated. Clarke could have her own tent and the same horse again should she wish it.

Clarke is looking at her in question and Lexa berates herself for rushing ahead. She doesn't know if Clarke will ever be ready to leave this place. She certainly can't know if Clarke will want to leave _with _her. Lexa has been ignoring the voice which tells her that time here is short. She hasn't wanted to think of how the days have gotten longer.

She resolves to think on it later but for now she drops into a basic fighting stance. It's only a variation on the first position they've already practised but pride still swells warm in her chest when Clarke mimics her posture with ease. They grin at each other as Lexa starts to move.

/

It snows almost without stop for the next three days and Clarke starts missing her pool. The water though not frozen solid is simply too cold to wade into. There's also distractingly little to do. Sitting and staring at the snow is surprisingly easy but when hours turn into days some of the shine starts to wear off the experience.

On the third day they close off the doorway and stoke up the fire. In the warmth they strip down to light clothing and it feels so good to be free of the furs. Clarke pretends not to see Lexa staring at her legs and Lexa ignores the way Clarke's eyes linger on her arms.

As a distraction from herself Clarke decides to go through Lexa's bags. If Lexa dislikes Clarke's intrusion, that's just too bad. She watched Clarke from the trees for days, maybe weeks. And while Clarke won't be holding Lexa's intrusion against her she feels it allows her some liberties. Especially where The Commander's sense of privacy is concerned.

Lexa remains impassive as Clarke sorts through her things, dividing the contents of her bag into piles. Clothes in one pile, weapons in another, and personal effects in the third. The clothes go back into the bag with barely a glance. She's seen all of Lexa's commoner clothes, has even taken

a shirt for herself. Some of the weapons are beautiful and Clarke will come back to them later – she ignores Lexa picking up a dagger to play with.

The third stack of objects is the most interesting to Clarke – the things Lexa brought out of want more than need. There's a glass bottle moulded with flowers and vines. It is heavier than a skin and carries less than is useful. Clarke puts it aside to ask Lexa about later.

There's a small mirror that gets put aside as well. Next is a silvery bangle which she slips over her wrist. She keeps Lexa in her sight line in case she wishes to object. For all that Lexa can take her privacy and shove it, Clarke still doesn't want to step on any personal taboos.

Lexa's expression is as impassive as ever though there is a shine in her eye as she looks at the cuff, something like amusement maybe. Clarke looks at the cuff more closely. It is truly beautiful with ornate patterns and symbols etched into it much like the patterns of Lexa's tattoos. It shines in the firelight untarnished.

It's also much too big for Clarke's wrist. It has a 'C' profile allowing some adjustment but she suspects it's meant to be worn higher on her arm. She pushes it up, over her forearm and past her elbow until it's firm around her bicep. It's a comfortable fit and she wonders why Lexa doesn't just wear it instead of carrying it with her. She looks up to see Lexa's hands have stilled on her blade. Her expression would be comical if it wasn't so worrisome; she's gone a brilliant shade of red and is now not quite looking at her. Clarke realises too late that the cuff is no simple piece of jewellery.

Clarke has a hand on her arm to push the cuff back down, but Lexa grasps her wrist before she can move it. The moment is tense with Lexa's still red face too close to her own. Clarke can't translate the odd twitch of Lexa's chin, but she allows her to pull her hand back from her arm. It's clear enough that Lexa would prefer Clarke keep the cuff on, despite her initial reaction.

Clarke can't pretend to understand but she can do as Lexa asks her. A light piece of metal is hardly a burden, and given Lexa's gentled expression Clarke feels like it's already worth it. She turns away as Lexa has to make a visible effort to regain her composure.

There are still items remaining and Clarke catalogues each of them one at a time. There's a coil of leather string for Lexa's braids. A kit of healing ointments and bandages. A white river stone with a blue painted symbol. And a tiny wood carving of a two tailed fox. Nothing causes so strong a reaction in Lexa as the cuff. Clarke puts the first aid kit back in the bag, leaves the hair ties aside, and sets the fox and stone up on a ledge. The last item is Lexa's war paint with a small brush clipped to the side.

Clark takes up the brush and as she opens the lid Lexa makes a small noise. Clarke looks up to see Lexa glaring at a cut on her finger where the knife must have slipped. Clarke lets her confusion show since surely the Commander has more skill with a blade. Lexa sighs and stares at the pot in Clarke's hands.

Clarks doesn't replace the lid but she does shuffle over to sit next Lexa whose index finger is now in her mouth. Her expression is somewhat petulant and Clarke doesn't hide her own smile. She sets aside the lid, takes up the brush and turns on her knees to face her. Lexa looks like she doesn't like this at all but won't lift a finger to stop her. Clarke pushes her brush through the wet paste, drags the excess off on the rim and lifts blackened bristles to Lexa's eye level.

_No_. Lexa halts Clarke's hand with the force of her glare. Not perturbed in the least Clarke dips her attention to Lexa's exposed shoulder instead. Lexa huffs a sigh and Clarke tries not to look smug as she starts painting stars all across Lexa's arm.

/

When Lexa somehow hides her kohl on the following day Clarke just uses charcoal instead, drawing abstract swirls all down Lexa's legs. Clarke doesn't mind at all when Lexa gets tired of being a canvas, pins her down, sits on her thighs and wipes soot-black all over her cheeks. They both end up filthy, and rolling around in bright fits of giggles.

They sleep in their smudges and Lexa's hands find Clarke's hips. /

The day after Clark hands Lexa the hair ties. Lexa tries to say no but gives-in to Clarke's sharp glare. Lexa is not surprised to see that glare slip into a smile the instant she agrees. Clarke just spins to sit between Lexa's outstretched legs and waits for her to do what she will.

Lexa briefly considers giving her Skai Prisa a child's braid but once her fingers are in Clarke's hair, nails running over her scalp the hum that comes from the back of Clarke's throat makes her stop.

She opts for a warriors braid instead. /

Hours later they sit cross legged opposite each other on the the comfort of their furs. Clarke lifts her arms between them one palm up and one palm down. Lexa looks utterly perplexed. Like she has never once played any kind of clapping game in her life. Clarke finds it hard to believe that grounder children could really have lost the art so quickly. Then again, maybe they haven't. Maybe it's just Lexa. Clarke doesn't know what kind of childhood she had. She doesn't know when Lexa was called to command.

With that sad thought Clarke determines to bring Lexa into her game. Clarke deliberately raises her left hand to just-under eye level palm facing down, her right hand above her knee, palm facing up. Lexa mirrors her which is close enough. Clarke flips her hands and slaps her palms onto Lexa's.

Lexa raises a sardonic eyebrow but when Clarke swaps the position of her hands Lexa mimics her and she slaps their hands together. They run through twice more and when Clarke raises both hands toward Lexa she doesn't need direction to meet both her palms. Lexa laughs out loud as Clarke finishes the set with a clap but she claps her hands as well and even stays seated, raising both arms between them with one palm up and one palm down.

/

Lexa has less trouble with _Down Down Baby_, and Clarke can't help but hum the tune as they play.

Lexa picks up the tune and hums into her ear until both are asleep. /

It snows for eight days total. Clarke doesn't kiss her again. No matter how Lexa might want her to. The way that Clarke looks at her, the way her hands run over Lexa's skin leaving charcoal and gooseflesh; Lexa thinks she might combust.

But then the snow clears and their days continue outside. They go along as they had before. At night they hold each other close, some nights interrupted by nightmares but most not. They forage together and Lexa hunts alone. Sometimes Lexa catches Clarke sinking into her pool, sometimes Clarke dives in knowing full well that she's there.

One time they sink in together.

Clarke leaves their cave on one nightmare dawn and Lexa follows her out. Clarke starts undressing leaving clothes as always in her wake. Lexa gathers them up and sits down on the rocks. Clarke for the first time stops at the waters edge and turns back to look at her.

The sun is barely a whisper on the horizon but there's light enough to see and Lexa loses her breath. Clarke's hair has grown long down her back, only some golden strands caught up in her braids. She stares back at Lexa with a look that contains only explicit instructions. _Follow_.

Lexa acts as directed peeling off clothes just as Clarke does, leaving a trail of fabric in her wake. When she reaches the edge Clarke is already submerged to the waist. Lexa can't catch her breath as Clarke turns around just to look at her. Lexa crumbles under a sapphire gaze as Clarke not only looks but really sees her – from her crown to her toes.

Lexa _feels _rather than sees the permission to join her. She'd washed here before but never with Clarke, never even in her Skai Prisa's presence. Clarke steps out deeper, never loosing Lexa's gaze, drawing her out like a Wadagedakru Siren. And Lexa looks, oh how she looks at Clarke's body. Now Clarke grants permission she truly can see.

When Clarke becomes still Lexa just keeps on moving and refuses to stop until she's pressed up against her. There's a small swell of water when their bodies collide and then Lexa can feel Clarke's skin against hers. Warm and soft, and all she could ask for. She waits for the kiss though, always she waits. Clarke had said _not yet _and today feels like _I'm ready_, or maybe even _Please. I need you, _but still Lexa waits.

Clarke's eyes hold so much promise and Lexa hopes hers show love. Clarke must see something she wants because she takes Lexa's hands and wraps her arms round her waist. Lexa's mind loses function and then Clarke is kissing her. Clarke threads her fingers though Lexa's hair and sighs into her mouth, is kissing her with want and a hard, zealous passion. Lexa's body thrums and she's not just a bell, she's a gunshot, a pyre, a war cry at dawn. She grasps at Clarke's hips and pulls her in closer.

When dawn paints them gold neither will know who cried out first.


End file.
